I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance,
Among my skimming swallows,
I make the netted sunbeam dance
Against my sandy shallows.

I murmur under moon and stars
In brambly wildernesses;
I linger by my shingly bars;
I loiter round my cresses;

And out again I curve and flow
To join the brimming river;

For men may come and men may go,

But I go on forever.

ALFRED TENNYSON.

THE LAW OF LOVE.

II KINGS iv, 3.

POUR forth the oil,-pour boldly forth;

It will not fail, until

Thou failest vessels to provide,

Which it may largely fill.

UPWARD AND ONWARD.

Make channels for the streams of love,
Where they may broadly run,

And love has overflowing streams
To fill them every one.

But if at any time we cease
Such channels to provide,
The very founts of love, for us,
Will soon be parched and dried.

For we must share, if we would keep,
That blessing from above:
Ceasing to give we cease to have;

Such is the law of love.

III

R. C. TRENCH.

UPWARD AND ONWARD.

DWELLER in the marshy lowland,
Dim with fog and damp and chill,
Judge not thou thy hardy brother,
Leaving thee to climb the hill.

Soon he calls thee to come with him;
He is breathing purer air;

Prospects bright are spread before him,

Which he fain would have thee share.

I 12

UPWARD AND ONWARD.

Linger not in thy low dwelling,
Where no prospect thou canst see,
Save one dead unvarying level,

Which seems all the world to thee.

Up, and climb the steep before thee,
With a strength till then unfelt,
Looking down with grateful wonder

At the spot where thou hast dwelt.

Thou wilt see thy brother told thee
No wild fancy of his brain,
When he said the sun was rising,
Shedding light on hill and plain.

Thou wilt feel the bracing current
Give new life to ev'ry limb;
And, instead of gloomy murmuring,
Thou wilt now rejoice with him.

Toiling on, though rough the road be,
Work and prayer divide the day;
Thou wilt find no time to idle,
Or mark out a brother's way.

If he stumble, pause and stay him ;
Help him grasp the nearest limb;

Haply ere the journey's ended

Thou mayst need such aid from him.

THE FRUIT OF SORROW.

Thorns may tear thee, footing fail thee,

Sliding back a little space;

Heed not, take the next step firmer,

Thou wilt reach a resting place.

Worn and wearied, here repose thee;
Still awhile thy panting breast;
Higher peaks are yet before thee,
This is not thy final rest.

Still as higher thou ascendest,

Plainer seems the path thou'st trod, And the prospect lies before thee, Resting in the light of God.

THE FRUIT OF SORROW.

Do NOT cheat thy heart and tell her, "Grief will pass away;

Hope for fairer times in future,

And forget to-day.”

Tell her, if you will, that sorrow

Need not come in vain;

Tell her that the lesson taught her

Far outweighs the pain.

113

S.

114

ARE THE CHILDREN AT HOME?

Cheat her not with the old comfort,
"Soon she will forget;"

Bitter truth, alas! but matter
Rather for regret.

Bid her not "Seek other pleasures,
Turn to other things;"

Rather nurse her caged sorrow,

Till the captive sings.

Rather bid her go forth bravely,

And the stranger greet;

Not as foe, with spear and buckler,
But as dear friends meet.

Bid her with a strong clasp hold her,
By her dusky wings,

Listening for the murmured blessing
Sorrow always brings.

A. A. PROCTOR.

ARE THE CHILDREN AT HOME?

EACH day when the glow of sunset

Fades in the western sky,

And the wee ones, tired of playing,

Go tripping lightly by,